


Wild Boy

by iskanderthebi



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Grinding, Hair-pulling, M/M, angry make outs, naked snake being confused as hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:35:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26173564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iskanderthebi/pseuds/iskanderthebi
Summary: something about Ocelot was entirely untameable
Relationships: Big Boss/Ocelot (Metal Gear), Naked Snake/Ocelot
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	Wild Boy

**Author's Note:**

> set during that one specific gun twirling boss fight against ocelot

“It’s just you and me. No one to get in our way.”

The crevice was like an open mouth between them. Amidst the wind and sound of the jungle, Snake heard as safeties clicked somewhere from behind and the faint, near undetectable whisper of footsteps. Some careful steps, others quiet but clumsy. Cobras, four, he would guess, and some common soldiers. They hadn’t retreated quite far enough after their major’s order. His hands curled lightly into fists.

“Ocelots are proud creatures,” the young man continued, sharp and straight against the landscape, like a bullet in the grass. “They prefer to hunt alone.”

Ocelot had his talent with the revolvers, Snake saw nothing to deny him there, but the show did little to impress him. He tried to block the sounds to visualise what was happening behind him, not trusting enough to turn. The soldiers were of no concern, but the damn Cobras would be a nuisance. If they did not obey, the fight would become messy.

“Twelve shots,” said Ocelot, pausing for a moment, before beginning to twirl the guns again, their shiny barrels glistening under the light like oil, snapping them sharply back into their holsters. “This time, I’ve got twelve shots.”

The soles of Ocelot’s boots ground into the dry soil, a faint tingle of his spurs ringing out. Even with their distance, Snake saw the pale blue eyes narrow, piercing into him like the young man wanted to see between his bones. The gaze held, a moment, before Ocelot abruptly looked beyond Snake.

“I said, _leave us!_ ” This time, the command was absolute. The venom in his voice sent whatever bodies behind Snake away, until their footsteps naturally vanished with the distance and the sound of the wind and the trees filled that gaping mouth between them.

Snake knew he had seventeen bullets. More than the major, not enough if the unit got involved. His fingers ached for the comfort of his combat knife.

Unwavering in his stare, Ocelot’s brows drew close in concentration, or anger, or something even Snake couldn’t decipher.

“Okay,” he said across the crevice. One final look. “ _Draw!_ ”

The first bullet thundered passed Snake’s ear and hit a tree trunk behind him. A bluff shot, not meant to hit, but he moved quickly, flicking his own pistol out with a snap of his wrist and sending three shots into Ocelot. None met their mark, but it gave him time to press himself against the near tree.

“You fool!” shouted Ocelot. “Son of a—”

The insult never landed. Snake threw a grenade across the gap and used its distraction to backtrack into the foliage. He wanted to look head on at his opponent instead of peaking over his back.

Ocelot had gotten out of the radius of the explosion easily enough, but as he stood to send two shots his way, Snake saw that the shower of soil and pebbles covered his uniform and dirtied his face.

Both bullets missed, a third sent the earth at Snake’s feet flying.

He took a shot, not looking at its destination, and rolled as two more flew safely above him. Irritation made Snake grind his teeth. What kind of damn game was this?

“You won’t get away from me!” howled Ocelot.

Snake fired two shots, aiming at Ocelot’s feet, that sent the young man dancing back. One of his arms flung itself out to catch his balance, leaving the torso open without clear defense. For a fraction of a second, maybe even less, Snake’s finger hesitated on the trigger and, of all things, Ocelot seemed to grin at that.

Three more shots, by his left ear and then somewhere near his thigh. He leaned around a bit of scraggy rock and aimed. A miss.

_Agile fuck_ , thought Snake. A bullet rushed passed him. He counted up the tally in his head. He rolled across to a boulder right by the crevice, and heard the whizz of another shot above him.

Back pressed against the boulder, even standing at full height, Snake realised Ocelot could not get him. Its position was the perfect barrier and covered him entirely from the premise of attack.

Ocelot gave a loud, frustrated grunt. “Don’t be a coward, Snake!” he called out. “Face me like a man.”

“Fuck you,” muttered Snake under his breath, reloading his pistol. Ten more bullets. Both of them were yet to seriously hit the other.

The wind howled.

“Come on, Snake.” Ocelot’s spurs rang loud as he paced. “A duel is a duel. Face me.”

Snake looked at his gun, and then he looked at the ruined patches in the soil ahead where Ocelot’s bullets had struck. He frowned, stared a little harder, and reached for his combat knife.

“ _Snake!_ ”

Holding the gun and knife in his right hand, Snake stepped out of the boulder’s shadow, and walked firmly into the open area in front of the crevice. Ocelot had snapped to attention with a flash of his revolvers, both pointing squarely at Snake, standing barely a few feet from the edge. Snake mirrored the position, but held his weapons away from him, like they were little more than leaves picked off the ground.

“What is this, Snake?” sneered Ocelot. “You grow too confident.”

“I do not,” replied Snake flatly.

“Do you think my barrels are empty that you can face me so? Do you really think it will take me less than a moment to reload both my pistols?”

Snake said nothing.

“Of course, you would notice I still have one bullet ready, Snake.” The corner of Ocelot’s mouth tugged itself into smug smile. “I used up eleven shots. I still have one left.”

“I know.”

Snake could practically see the flame that glistened in Ocelot’s eyes.

“I could still kill you with that shot,” said Ocelot. “One well aimed bullet, and the Boss’ info would never be needed again.”

Snake didn’t shift, didn’t let a single muscle betray him. “No,” he said.

“No?” repeated Ocelot. “No, what?”

Snake took a step forward. “I don’t think you want to kill me,” he said.

That silenced the major. His blue eyes searched Snake’s face for a trick, for some hint of a gamble or a rouse.

He barked out a laugh. “A playful bluff,” he said.

Snake gestured his way. “The remaining bullet is in your left gun. By the way you have been holding it while we have been speaking, the shot would easily pass my head and not even graze my ear, while the right one is aimed at the centre of my forehead. You have no intention of killing me.”

A thin cut marred the major’s pale skin. One of the stones that must have ricocheted from the grenade’s blast scratched him across the cheek. Ocelot’s face did not change, neither did the way he held his revolvers.

“What if the bullet is in the right gun?” he said.

“It isn’t.”

The shot rang out and its detonation sent a shrill sting through Snake’s left ear. He grimaced, but did not move.

Ocelot stood as if frozen, empty pistols still aimed at Snake, before his lips pulled away to show his teeth in a predatory snarl. With a howl, he twirled the two guns and snapped them into their holsters and easily jumped over the gap between them.

Snake flinched and took half a step back, fingers separating combat knife from gun handle, but Ocelot seemed not to notice.

“I’ve never felt a tension like this before,” he all but purred, all of a sudden very close, and leaning in towards Snake. “You saw right through me, Snake. This is so different from simply changing a clip.”

Ocelot stepped closer and Snake stepped back. He saw the other’s pupils were dark and dilated. There was something untameable about the major’s face that Snake just couldn’t decipher. Something feral and burning. A fierce red coloured his cheeks and the cut was glistening with beads of blood. If he really could have been an animal, the hair on the back of his neck would have been electrified.

“Is this what you wanted?” asked Snake warily, unable to understand the shift. “Close quarter combat?”

“Maybe,” said Ocelot. “I don’t know.” His lips curled. “But it is so much more intimate, is it not?”

The shadows above Snake changed. He realised he was close to backing up into a tree.

Their eyes met. Ocelot was breathing through his mouth.

“Shall we?” said Snake.

“Put away the gun. No weapons, just our hands.”

Watching Snake holster his gun, Ocelot straightened his gloves. He did this in the open in front of himself, slowly, in a manner that was wanton, eyes on Snake. The hungry smile did not leave his face.

Snake showed his empty palms and shifted his feet, balling his hands into fists.

“No guns,” he said.

“No guns,” said Ocelot, and lunged.

Snake could quickly tell he had the advantage. While the young man was quick and hit hard, he was simply smaller in stature and his youth had not yet given him enough time to perfect his physique. Ocelot’s blows were fast, but not enough to break bone.

A swift hit of the elbow to his collarbone sent Ocelot stumbling back, red beret slipping off to show his pale blond hair. Something about the action momentarily stupefied him, and he blinked at Snake without any hint of battle in his eyes. It instinctively made Snake want to jump back. He hated not being able to read an opponent.

But the look vanished as quickly as it had come, and Ocelot rushed in to tackle Snake. With a sharp twist and throwing out his arm, Snake flipped their positions and, gripping the major by the front of his uniform, slammed him into the tree beside them. The blow was chiefly to Ocelot’s torso and Snake pressed his forearm firmly against his neck. Snake heard the breath catch and tumble out of Ocelot’s mouth.

“What the fuck is this?” hissed Snake, left hand hovering above his combat knife. “This isn’t a fight, this is some game to you.”

“Snake—“

“What the fuck do you want from me?” Snake lessened the force against Ocelot’s neck, but clawed his fingers into the khaki uniform. “You don’t want to kill me, yet you won’t let me go. You’re toying with me, playing, like an animal.”

Ocelot’s wild eyes snapped to his. “You have no idea,” he sneered and, with the space now open for him to angle his head low, sunk his teeth into Snake’s forearm.

Even through his fatigues, Snake felt the sharp crescent of pain. Abandoning his knife, he let his left hand curl in Ocelot’s short hair. Heaving his weight over the other, he yanked Ocelot’s head back, forcing him to release his teeth from their hold. Ocelot’s head moved almost willingly, his neck arching back, flush of blood dark on his face and a moan escaped his lips.

“God, Snake,” he gasped.

Something was forming in the back of Snake’s mind but the open expression of his opponent unnerved him, and he shoved his weight against Ocelot’s body, knee between his legs.

There was no mistaking the cause of Ocelot’s gasps now. Snake could feel him against his thigh, cock hard and straining against the fabric of his pants. Their eyes met, and Ocelot did not break the gaze, breathing like a bull, both hands reaching to grip at Snake’s arms.

“You get off to this?” grunted Snake.

With a breathless gasp, Ocelot gave out a laugh. “More than you think.”

He wrestled against Snake’s thick built, and the hand in his hair yanked his head firmly back. The movement brought out another loud moan from Ocelot, whose eyes were so black the blue had all but vanished. His adam’s apple bobbed as he thickly swallowed.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” muttered Snake.

Eyes rolling back momentarily, Ocelot fixed him with a heated look.

“I like a challenge,” he said and crushed his lips to Snake.

It was barely a kiss, if it was one at all, and before Snake could pull away, both of Ocelot’s hands had released his arms and were cupping his face, forcing them closer. Ocelot was a wild beast, breathing loudly through his nose, tilting his face the wrong way and painfully clacking their teeth together. He stank of gunpowder and sweat and that stiff scent of a new uniform.

Ocelot’s gloved fingers pushed into his scalp, and Snake remembered his own hand in the short blond hair, and tugged.

“Fuck!” Snake flinched at the sharp stinging pain. “You fucking bit me.”

“We are men of war, Snake,” panted Ocelot, cheeks awash a deep crimson. “Niceties are beneath us.”

They were almost nose to nose. Snake stared at him. Stared at how young the major’s face looked up close, how the pale eyelashes curled like feathers over his burning eyes. He saw the blood — _his_ blood — on Ocelot’s lips and the way his pink tongue darted out to lick at it, and thought about how stupid those words were.

“Shut the fuck up,” he said and kissed him.

This time, it was something else. Ocelot moaned into it, once again cupping Snake’s face yet bringing him closer in a manner quite different. Less violent, more desperate. Ocelot ate into Snake’s mouth like he was starved, like he was choking and drowning all at once. He licked in, then opened his mouth for the other, but there was no submission to the action. He wanted and he wanted greedily.

Instead of pulling on the hair, Snake let his fingernails scrape along Ocelot’s scalp, eating up the sounds he made into his mouth. This time, he let his thigh press between Ocelot’s legs with purpose, and tried not to think too much about why he wanted to do it, rocking into him.

Ocelot was loud, but that gave Snake that chance to taste his tongue, to suck on it, to rake his teeth against its length until Ocelot was shaking beneath him. He broke the kiss, a strand of saliva connecting their lips, evading the other’s searching nudge forward. Snake kissed the corner of the mouth, dragged his tongue along the sharp line of Ocelot’s jaw.

Ocelot’s gloved hands reached around him and firmly ground their hips together, eliciting broken hisses from them both.

“Forget them, Snake,” Ocelot gasped from bruised lips.

Snake barely heard him. He kissed and licked at Ocelot’s neck, feeling the hammering of his pulse beneath his mouth. It was a very different feeling. He was trying not to think.

“What?”

“Think of it — us against them. What a team we could be, Snake!” Ocelot cried out as Snake bit his ear. “Just the two of us, forever. They wouldn’t be able to stop us.”

Snake tuned him out, letting one of his hands slide down to Ocelot’s hip and angle him closer, breaking the major’s sporadic ruts and instead building up a rhythm. The muscles in his stomach were as taunt as a bowstring. He ached for his own release.

Ocelot’s arms curled around his neck and pressed him close, sounds coming out of his mouth without filter, gasping and moaning with every shift of their bodies. He was shameless, and Snake wondered for a moment whether he liked that, before leaning more firmly into him. If the tree trunk was beginning to hurt Ocelot, he did not care.

Ocelot came first. He was loud, a jagged cry falling from his lips as Snake’s hips continued to rock into him through his orgasm, before burying his face in the crook of Snake’s neck, chest heaving. One of Ocelot’s hand gripped tightly at Snake’s shoulder, fingers clawing into his fatigues.

Snake was still hard and, head swimming, rigidly tried to put some space between their bodies, but Ocelot only tightened his hold.

“A team, Snake,” Ocelot panted into his neck. “A fucking team.”

Snake put his hand on Ocelot’s neck, marked red from his own lips, and lifted his head so they could look at each other in the face.

“That will never happen,” he said.

“But this happened.” Ocelot’s eyes were dark from arousal, but no less sharp. “You can’t deny that.”

He couldn’t. And Snake didn’t like that.

“Spur of the moment,” he said stiffly. “Arousal from the adrenaline. Doesn’t mean anything.”

“No?” Something of the previous expression slinked back into Ocelot’s face, sneering and predatory. “Doesn’t mean anything at all to you?”

Letting go of his shoulder, Ocelot reached below and cupped Snake’s hard-on through his pants. Snake sucked in a sharp breath, hips bucking beneath the firm touch.

“This is nothing?” Ocelot breathed, sliding his hand along the outline of Snake’s cock. “Just wait until I make you come in my mouth.”

A haze was filling Snake’s vision, and he only partially registered as Ocelot went down on his knees. He looked at him, wondering why he was battling against this at all, and watched as Ocelot put the tip of his pointer finger between his teeth and began to pull off the glove.

“No,” he said.

Ocelot ignored him. The first glove was off.

God, it would be so easy, Snake thought. And the kid was so eager too.

Second glove on the ground, a bare hand reached for his belt.

This was not the man The Boss made.

“No,” he snapped, and yanked Ocelot’s hand away by the wrist. “Nothing more is going to happen. We are going our separate ways.”

Ocelot bared his teeth in something like a savage smile. “It’ll bother you, Snake.”

Snake dropped the wrist with an angry jerk and turned. He knew it would, and that was also something he did not want to think about.

He heard Ocelot stand up behind him, knowing full well that his back was an open target should the major change his mind and go back to the original purpose of his meeting. A bee flew passed and he absentmindedly slapped it away.

“Remember what I said, Snake,” called out Ocelot behind him. “When all those close become enemies, remember when I offered you this. Remember — damn it!”

Snake turned at that, and saw that Ocelot was staring at a handful of bees flying up from the gaping crevice. Snake followed his line of vision and watched as the colony grew so thick it began to hold a dark shape against the sky.

“He found us!” Something more than simple frustration laced Ocelot’s voice and, already turning on his heels, he gave Snake one last, blazing look. “You were lucky.”

The colony of bees grew between them and Snake saw Ocelot’s face for one more moment before they ran. His face was pale and his eyebrows were drawn together but the corners of his lips curled into a smile that hid a hundred thoughts behind it.

“We’ll meet again!”

**Author's Note:**

> i hate ocelot


End file.
